


He Came in Through the Bathroom Window

by TabbieWolf



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys being gross, Domestic Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Okay There's a LITTLE Plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, it snuck in when I wasn't looking, the annoyance of recovering from injuries, the whininess of Lupin III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29610933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TabbieWolf/pseuds/TabbieWolf
Summary: Lupin III's position in the underground leads him to hiding at Inspector Zenigata's place for a few days, injured and looking for comfort.The inspector provides.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III/Zenigata Kouichi, Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke, Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III/Mine Fujiko/Zenigata Kouichi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	1. Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

> As always, read the tags. This is porn without plot but a little plot had to sneak in there to make the porn happen. There's also _feelings_ , and you know those are always dangerous to fling around.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Thanks to my beta readers: Hawkens, Hazza, and Sas, for all their help with editing and commentary :)

It was early evening after a long day at work, and Koichi Zenigata picked at the takeout carton in front of him. A coworker had recommended the place, and it certainly wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t his usual fare. The television droned comfortably in the background as Zenigata contemplated sticking the remains of dinner in the fridge and just enjoying the rest of a quiet night at home when he heard a crash from the bathroom.

Quick as a shot, the inspector got up from his sofa and very quietly walked to the hallway. His apartment wasn’t huge, but he was half-dressed, his holster and gun safely put away for the night, and years of following a master thief around had honed his own sneaking skills to a fine art, despite being heavier on his feet than Lupin the Third.

At that thought, the bathroom door creaked open, and the thief himself peeked through. His face was bruised and bleeding, and he saw Zenigata and a smile stretched across his face.

“Oh, hey, Pops.” Lupin greeted in thick French, before falling face first into the wooden floor. Zenigata rushed forward, eyebrows furrowed.

“Lupin!” the words “you’re under arrest” tickled automatically at the back of the inspector’s throat, but he swallowed them. It wouldn’t do any good, anyway: the man was very obviously unconscious. Zenigata rushed forward, his big hand touching the neck for a pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief as he found one, then ran a hand through Lupin’s hair, feeling for any serious injuries. His hand came away sticky, but the blood loss — on the thief’s head, anyway — wasn’t significant, probably a scrape or something small that looked worse than it was as the blood dripped down his forehead. He might have a mild concussion from falling onto the hard wooden floor.

Then Zenigata looked at the rest of him. The thief’s right hand and left leg were bent in a “probably should consider the hospital” way, his left ankle swelling fiercely against his tight white pants. With a sigh, the inspector opened the bathroom door fully and lifted Lupin up, carefully sitting him up in the tub with his head and neck elevated against the wall.

“You didn’t send a calling card, you idiot, what did you do tonight...” Zenigata grumbled, looking at the small bathroom window. He was thankful the thief hadn’t broken that, at least, though he noticed the blood around the frame as he closed and locked it.

With another sigh, the inspector pulled out his small first aid kit, wishing he could just haul Lupin to the hospital but knowing he couldn’t. He carefully pulled off the thief’s jacket, unbuttoning his shirt, and gritted his teeth, hissing as he felt something move in an inhuman direction when he touched Lupin’s right wrist.

“S’not broken,” Lupin slurred, smiling at the inspector, blinking open an eye.

“Lupin!” Zenigata pulled his hand back.

“Just...out of...place...” Lupin continued.

Zenigata held a hand up to Lupin’s cheek. “Stay with me, Lupin. What did you do tonight?”

Lupin blinked again. He uncurled the fingers on his right hand and Zenigata swallowed uncomfortably as he heard a number of joints pop. It was the thief’s turn to hiss, pain lacing through him as he stretched the bones back into place.

“Sprained.” Lupin said, leaning his head back against the tile wall. “Not...broken.”

The inspector nodded, knowing he’d need to wrap it anyway, hoping he had enough gauze to do so. He glanced at Lupin’s leg. He had never been sure why the thief went with white pants, unless it was to see the traces of where exactly he was injured. Blood, grease, and dark grey scrapes — maybe from crawling around in a vent? — each signaled places that probably needed attention.

“Lupin. I’m going to take off your pants, okay?”

“Pops! Buy a man...a drink first...” Lupin continued his slow, slurred speech. Zenigata pondered it, wondering if he did have a concussion, and unbuckled the thief’s belt and undid his fly, cautiously sliding the pants down. Lupin hissed again as Zenigata pulled them over the swollen part of his leg.

“Lupin? You still with me?”

“Mmmmmmm.”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“Mmmm. Never...when someone else has...my pants.”

Zenigata paused, blinking, trying to figure the nonsense statement out as he folded the dirtied clothes and set them on the bathroom floor. Lupin, now wearing just his undershirt and boxers, was still conscious, his eyes following the inspector’s hands. Zenigata wondered if he should just finish stripping the thief and rinse him off. He was in the tub, after all.

“M’gonna...”

“Lupin?”

“Mmmnnnn.” Lupin’s head lolled. Zenigata carefully maneuvered him to his side, in case he was about to be sick — if he did have a concussion that might be an issue — but the position didn’t look comfortable at all. He still needed to tend to the wounds; it surely hadn’t been that long, why did it feel like hours? Zenigata wished his bathroom was larger as he pulled apart the first aid kit and got to work.

~*~

Zenigata was washing the blood off his hands in the kitchen sink, where the water ran hotter. Lupin was wrapped in bandages, reasonably upright and snoring, in the bathtub. The inspector had decided to remove the rest of his clothes after he’d gagged swallowing a few painkillers. Lupin had slurred that he was fine, but Zenigata had already cleaned up enough for one night. A worn beige towel served as a blanket and modesty protector (for both men), and Lupin pawed at it in his sleep.

The inspector resignedly sighed, then jumped, dropping the kitchen towel he was drying his hands on as there was a buzzing sound on the counter. His phone vibrated impatiently, an unknown number on the screen.

“Zenigata.” he answered automatically, his tone a bit more tired and curt than usual.

“Is Lu at your place?” You could hear the years of smoking in the hushed voice on the other end of the line.

“Jigen. Yeah, he’s here. What the hell did you three—“

“Can’t talk much. We were followed. We’ll be by in a few days when things are less hot. Take care of him, alright, Pops?”

“I already—“ The other man had hung up. Zenigata looked at his phone screen. “—have.”

Another sigh and the inspector set his phone down. He picked up the takeout container and half-finished burrito off the coffee table, closing it and shoving it in the fridge amongst other various leftovers. He contemplated grabbing a beer and realized he’d rather stay sober, in case they did have to go to the hospital. _So much for that quiet night…_

After putting Lupin’s clothes in the wash — the jacket, which featured a very fancy-looking brand stitched into the inner lining and absolutely no care instructions, hung above the washing machine in the tiny laundry closet — Zenigata settled back on the couch. The TV rambled on and he sipped at his glass of water, wondering if he should make coffee, wondering whether he’d be up all night dealing with Lupin, wondering if the thief would sleep through the night. What time was it, anyway, it felt like a lifetime had passed since Zenigata was contemplating turning on a favorite movie and putting his feet up...

“Po-o-o-ps...” A long whine came from the bathroom.

Zenigata sighed, again, and got up from the couch.

~*~

Outfitted in one of the inspector’s old t-shirts, which hung loose on the skinny thief, Lupin sat on the double bed, one leg curled under himself, the other spread across the sheets. It was bandaged and clean but pretty swollen, and Zenigata had supported him as he guided him to the bedroom.

“You want to share what exactly you three were doing tonight?” the inspector ventured, returning to the bedroom with a glass and handing it to Lupin.

“Thief stuff.” Lupin said simply, sipping his water.

“Bullshit. You didn’t send a calling card.” Zenigata was still wearing his slacks and undershirt as he sat down on the bed next to Lupin. He’d alerted his boss he needed the next day or two off for “personal matters” and those requests came so rarely from the ever-vigilant detective that he’d been granted it without any further inquiry.

Lupin swished the water around in his mouth, made a face, and swallowed. “Hope they didn’t knock a tooth loose.”

“You might’ve done that when you came here. What happened?”

The thief let out an oddly resigned sigh. “There’s...well. Some folks think I’m an easy target. New folks in the underground who don’t... _know_ , you know?”

“People who think you’re just a petty thief.” Zenigata said. “How—“

“It happens every once in awhile.” Lupin leaned onto Zenigata, his head against his shoulder. “It’s been awhile, but some hot shot new gang boss got it in their head that taking me out tonight would look good on their resume.” He stuck a finger in his mouth, seeing if he could find what was bleeding, flinched when he found it (thankfully not a loose tooth), and pulled the finger out, sucking on it as he did so. “We were in the middle of a nice dinner, too, didn’t even get to the main course...”

Zenigata thought of the leftovers in the fridge and contemplated offering them, but figured he should get more information out of the thief while he was willing to share. “Who? Is this someone I can go after?”

Lupin glanced at him. The inspector looked like he was on the verge of going into a speech about righteousness and the pursuit of justice. “I...don’t think you’ll need to, Pops.” Lupin grinned, but looked down at his own fingers, which were twiddling against his leg. “Remember who I was having dinner with.”

It took Zenigata a minute but his face went slightly pale. “Oh.”

“I’m pretty sure we got out of the restaurant before anything got too messy.” Lupin assured him. “I’m also pretty sure that entire gang is now nobody’s problem, since they were stupid enough for the boss to try to take me on directly.” He sipped more water, then nuzzled his nose into Zenigata’s chest. The inspector felt his face get hot, but didn’t move the thief. They sat like that for a bit, comfortably silent, until Lupin’s stomach growled loudly. The thief laughed to himself.

“You wouldn’t happen to have—“

“Heh. How do you feel about burritos?”

~*~

Lupin cleaned out the majority of the leftovers in Zenigata’s fridge. The inspector was baffled at how much the twig of a man could _eat_ , though he pulled the beer out of his hands before he could open it.

“You’ve got a lot of painkillers in your system right now, alcohol is a bad plan.”

“Aww.” Lupin pouted, balanced on one foot in front of the open fridge, leaning his bad side against Zenigata. The fussy face was only momentary as he pulled out a half-full Chinese food container and looked like he was just going to dump the whole thing in his mouth.

The phone buzzed on the counter again, “Unknown Caller” once again flashing on the screen.

“Zenigata.” the inspector answered.

“Inspector. How is he?” deep, stern Japanese greeted back.

“He’s eating my entire fridge.”

There was a relieved breath on the other end, and it occurred to Zenigata that it was extremely rare that Lupin would get separated from both Jigen and Goemon, especially while severely injured. How odd it felt, to be in the circle of people the thief trusted with his life, even after everything.

“Is that Jigen?” Lupin asked, mouth full as he shoveled in cold beef chow mein.

“Goemon. It sounds like they’re driving.” Zenigata covered the bottom of the phone with his hand, an old habit from landline days, to answer the thief before going back to the samurai. “Where are you?”

“Geneva. I think.” Goemon answered slowly. There was a harsh mumble in the background and he added, “Jigen says to tell you we kept them away from your location and are laying low a few days. Your home is safe. And to tell Lupin so is ours. Our apartment, I mean.”

“Alright.” Zenigata confirmed. “Anything else?”

Zenigata heard Goemon toss the question at Jigen, another mumble of a response in the background, and then Goemon dutifully repeated, his accent slanting American, “Don’t let him get away with too much.”

The inspector wasn’t sure what to say to that. The samurai had hung up, anyway.

~*~

Lupin was leaning into Zenigata again as they settled together on the couch. The thief was the picture of fat and happy, his burps mixing with contented snuffles, despite the sprained wrist in his lap and swollen ankle that he had propped in front of him on the arm of the sofa, as well as various bandaged scrapes on his arms, legs, and face. Amazing how only a few hours ago he was a barely conscious heap on the hallway floor.

The two men watched TV for awhile. It was odd, having the chatterbox of a thief some degree of quiet, but Lupin was in and out of dozing, an occasional sleepy comment on whatever was on television mixed in with gentle snoring and shoulder twitches. Originally he was going to carry him to bed, but Zenigata figured keeping his leg elevated was a good plan. When he found himself fighting sleep, the inspector replaced his shoulder with a throw pillow under Lupin’s head — he wasn’t sure when he’d acquired that pillow, it must’ve come with the sofa — and gently tucked a blanket around the thief. Lupin practically purred, smiling in his sleep, and Zenigata had the strongest urge to kiss him, but he shook his head to snap himself out of that thought and walked towards the bedroom.


	2. Thursday

Zenigata awoke to his alarm clock angrily beeping at him. He’d slept surprisingly well, and it took him a moment to remember the events of the previous night. He was out of bed extremely quickly, though, the moment he did, still concerned for the thief who’d tumbled in through his bathroom window.

Lupin was half-asleep on the sofa, his hurt leg still elevated, his right arm resting across his chest. His left hand was doing something else entirely, and Zenigata quickly turned away to give him some privacy.

“Hey, Pops. Good morning.” Lupin huffed, stopping his stroking. “I, uh. Had to pee and couldn’t get up off the couch, so this seemed like a good way to...”

“Right. Your leg.” Zenigata blushed deeply, still ever-surprised by how open Lupin was about himself, despite the fact that he’d stripped him naked in his tub the previous night.

“Would you mind—“ Lupin lifted himself up as much as he could, hissing as his swollen ankle bumped against the sofa.

“Hold still, I’ve got you.” Zenigata wrapped an arm under the thief, readjusting as they stood up so he could support his left side. It was awkward, but the walk to the bathroom was short, and the two men shuffled themselves there, Zenigata doing his best to ignore the erection that was tenting his old t-shirt. Lupin wiggled a bit as Zenigata crabwalked him to the toilet, sitting him down carefully so he wouldn’t make a mess.

“Thanks, Koichi.” Lupin said, gripping the older man’s big hand gently.

“Shout when...you’re done.” Zenigata told him awkwardly, his face red at how weirdly intimate the handholding felt. He turned and quickly walked out of the bathroom to leave the thief to his business, returning to the bedroom. He heard Lupin’s groan of relief, even through the closed door.

The inspector laid out his clothes for the day, passively surprised that he owned a pair of jeans that looked like they still fit. He’d shuffled to the laundry closet to pull out Lupin’s clothing when he heard the thief call him from the bathroom. A bit more awkward crabwalking and a bit of help getting partially dressed and Lupin was relocated back to the sofa, wearing clean boxers (his ankle was too swollen for his tight pants to be comfortable) but still happily surrounded by Zenigata’s old t-shirt.

Zenigata attempted to keep his morning routine, slightly delayed, and put a pot of coffee on to brew while he took a quick shower. He ran his hands through his wet hair, sighing, the exhaustion from last night finally catching up with him. Don’t let him get away with too much? What on earth did that mean? He turned off the water, trying to focus on the mug of coffee he’d be having in a few.

Lupin was flipping through television channels, bouncing his right leg against the sofa with the quiet anxiety of someone who wanted something to do. He turned his head as he heard Zenigata walk to the kitchen.

“Coffee?” the inspector asked.

“Please. Lots of cream and sugar. If you have it.”

Zenigata inspected the fridge, which was much emptier compared to the previous night. “I’ve got soy milk. I might have some sugar packets in a drawer, let me check…”

“That’ll work.” Lupin responded, sort of glad Zenigata couldn’t see him judging his choice of available coffee additives. He suspected he mostly drank coffee at work, and he knew he took it the way Jigen did: black. Some people had no taste for the sweeter things…

Well. When it came to coffee, at least.

The broad-shouldered inspector came into the room, a mug in each hand. He set the dark blue one with the ICPO logo on the table, and handed Lupin the one that had a curly wave design advertising an aquarium-based theme park. Zenigata idly wondered the last time he’d purchased a coffee mug — he’d had to rinse the dust off the one Lupin was sipping from — the last time he’d had someone in his apartment for coffee, or for anything. Ami and her dad, maybe, or Yata on one of those weekends he came over to make sure Zenigata wasn’t holed up overanalyzing mistakes from cases that had happened years ago. He ignored the slight face the thief made as he sipped his coffee and went back to clicking through channels.

“Slow down, Lupin.”

“There’s nothing on.”

“Turn it to the news.” Zenigata instructed, enjoying the bitterness of the hot coffee on his tongue.

“What happened last night won’t be on there.” Lupin said soundly, swallowing a mouthful of sort-of coffee.

“How do you know?”

“Trust me. It won’t.” Lupin raised an eyebrow, a knowingness in his voice that Zenigata wasn’t sure how to take. The thief did switch it to the morning news, though, and sure enough, not a word of a samurai or a gunman in a fedora or a wild gang of miscreants was mentioned even vaguely. For a moment, Zenigata pondered if Lupin had made up the whole story, and then a moment more and Zenigata realized he was very happy chasing a thief and not any of the other things that might happen in the underground. He saw enough heartache as it was when he occasionally dropped in to the Tokyo Police Department.

~*~

The day passed slowly. Zenigata had suspected that having Lupin around was usually more wild, but since he was laid up on the couch, he was mostly either sleepy, or hungry, or needed the toilet. It was a bit like having a toddler in the apartment, just taller and whinier. Lupin had successfully signed into every subscription television service, the means of which Zenigata very much did not wish to know because he knew he was not subscribed to any of them (he hoped, anyway, and pondered if his wallet was still in the drawer where he usually put it when he got home for the night), and was clicking through as rapidly as he had been clicking through the regular channels. He’d watch a movie for a few minutes, change it, watch a TV series for a few minutes, change it, switch back to the movie, switch to a different movie, change services entirely and start the whole process over. Zenigata finally clicked over to a soccer game and moved both himself and the remote to the small office area he’d set up on the other side of the living room. Lupin grumbled audibly, but focused on the game anyway.

Zenigata’s phone buzzed from its home on the kitchen counter where it was plugged in to the charger next to the coffee maker. The inspector got up, saw Unknown Caller on the screen again, considered just adding that number to his contacts, and answered.

“Zenigata.”

“Everything going okay, Pops?” There was a sound of a waterfall in the background, and Zenigata could hear the cigarette in Jigen’s lips.

“Peachy.” the inspector answered, watching Lupin watch TV. “I finally got him to stop changing channels.”

“You took the remote away?”

Zenigata sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Where are you two now?”

“Lupin’ll know. Far enough away that you shouldn’t get any fallback for what happened last night, if there is any. There shouldn’t be, but we’ll stay a day or two more just in case.” Zenigata could hear the gunman breathe deep and exhale a cloud of smoke, the cigarette no longer audible when he spoke again. “You gonna take my advice from last night?”

“I don’t know what it means.”

“You’ll figure it out, Pops.” Jigen sighed.

Zenigata couldn’t help himself. “How many people did you—“

“Pops. Please. It was a shitty enough night without the interrogation. Let it go. Hasn’t Lupin told you that?”

“Not…exactly in those words.”

“But he’s said it.” Jigen huffed a chuckle. “Let him know we’re fine. We’ll bring back some cookies. Purchased, promise.”

Zenigata, confused by the sudden promise of pastries _and_ amused by how reassured he felt when Jigen promised to not steal them ( _Old habits…_ ), nodded, then realized he was talking on the phone. “Alright.”

The gunman grunted acknowledgement, and Zenigata could almost hear him pull out a new cigarette before hanging up. The inspector looked at the phone screen, then plugged it back into the charger.

“Jigen?” Lupin asked, redirecting his attention towards the kitchen.

“Yeah.”

“Could you hear a waterfall?”

Zenigata raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“The Final Problem.” the thief chuckled, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa. “I know where they are. They’re fine.”

Zenigata, puzzled by whatever the inside joke was, couldn’t think of away of politely asking what the hell. “Jigen says they’ll bring back pastries?”

“Mmmmm.” Lupin licked his lips. “I’m hungry.”

_Like living with a toddler…_

~*~

The inspector was settled into bed. The thief had still been dozing on and off, so he’d tucked him in on the couch again, but he heard him wheedle out a “Koichi…” after turning out the bedside lamp.

“Everything okay, Lupin?” the apartment was small, and Zenigata’s voice projected well, and he was cozy enough in bed (and tired enough of Lupin’s whininess for the day) that he didn’t want to leave it.

“I can’t fall asleep.”

Zenigata blinked, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. The thief had been snoring less than twenty minutes ago.

“I don’t like sleeping alone.” Lupin continued, almost as if he’d heard the eye roll.

“You were fine last night.” Zenigata reminded him.

“Last night I nearly died.” This wasn’t true, Zenigata knew, as he’d been the one to strip the thief and mend his injuries. He’d changed his bandages just a few hours ago and he was healing well, his sprained limbs still swollen, still not great to move much, but healing. “I’m better now.” This also wasn’t true, Zenigata had to help him around the apartment so he wouldn’t put weight on his ankle, which meant the inspector had been at the whim of Lupin’s stomach and bladder all day. He sighed.

“Would you be better if you slept in here?”

Zenigata could almost hear the thief nodding enthusiastically before he heard the “YES.” from the living room. He sighed again, getting up from his warm spot in the middle of the bed, and walked across the dark apartment. The light coming in from outside was dim through the dusty blinds, but he could see the expression on Lupin’s face and sighed again, helping him off the couch and into bed. Positioning the thief was difficult, since both sides of his body were injured in different places, but Zenigata finally nudged him into place so his left leg was on the outside of the bed, figuring it was the limb that was still the most swollen and should avoid being rolled over onto. He took that lone throw pillow from the couch, tucking it under Lupin’s sprained ankle, and grabbed the blanket as well. He _was_ a thief, after all, and that probably included stealing blankets.

“Comfortable?”

“Wish I could touch you, Koichi.”

Zenigata felt his ears go red. “Uh.”

“My arm is—“

“Your arm still needs some time, Lupin.”

Lupin huffed, touching Zenigata’s foot with his, wrapping as much of his leg as he could around the inspector’s. Zenigata flushed, not used to the physical affection, and hoped the rest of him would calm down.

“I can see you, Koichi.”

The inspector’s face was red as a beet. “Lupin, don’t. Don’t stress your arm. It can wait.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

Zenigata sighed, pondering the meaning of Jigen’s advice. Warning? “Whenever you can move your arm without flinching in pain.”

“And then I can—“

The weight of the exhausted sigh could have brought down a zeppelin. “Then you can touch me, yes.”

Lupin mewed excitedly, turning his head and rubbing his nose against Zenigata’s shoulder. Zenigata was almost alarmed by how much the concept of that sort of intimacy pleased the thief. He heard his soft snores moments later, and hoped he’d fall asleep before they reached their normal volume.


	3. Friday

Once again, Zenigata had forgotten to turn off his alarm, despite knowing he had the day off. It beeped angrily at him, and he stretched to click it off, bumping into the drooling head of Lupin the Third. Lupin sniffled and twitched, but didn’t wake up, even with the alarm clock on his side of the bed. If he hadn’t been snoring like it was going out of style, Zenigata would have been concerned. Sleep was good for recovery, though, so he let Lupin rest.

The inspector momentarily wondered how, exactly, he was going to get out of bed, as Lupin’s leg was practically braided around his, despite the bad leg being sprawled in the other direction. In fact, as much of Lupin as he could manage with his injuries was pressed into Zenigata. Zenigata, trying to ignore the blush creeping to his ears as he realized what the feeling against his hip was, sighed, moving as quietly and as carefully as possible to get up.

After making sure Lupin was still soundly asleep, Zenigata headed for the kitchen. Coffee on, shower, shave, teeth brushed, hair combed. He’d almost forgotten Lupin was in his apartment as he continued the normality of his morning routine. He walked into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist to find the thief perched on the side of the bed, stretching out his left leg and pressing his foot to the floor to see if it would handle his weight. Zenigata watched him a moment, saw him bite his lip as he shifted the weight into it — the ankle was better than two nights ago, but it wasn’t ready for the strenuous activity Lupin normally put his limbs through — and then realized belatedly that he was extremely not dressed as Lupin looked up at him, eyes sparkling.

“Morning, Pops. Sexy look.”

Zenigata cleared his throat, hitching up the towel. “How’s your ankle?”

“It’s gonna need more time.” Lupin said, not attempting to hide the pain it was causing him. “I might be able to get around on my own, if I balance against the wall.”

Zenigata pondered the idea of Lupin hopping on one leg around his apartment, tripping and falling face first into the wooden floor again, and was on the verge of reminding him of the concept that he was here, of course Lupin wouldn’t have to do it alone, but the thief stretched out his right hand and arm, popping the joints all the way up to his elbow, causing the inspector to flinch. “My wrist is pretty good, though.”

The inspector nodded, still tightly gripping the towel, trying to figure out how to politely get dressed without mooning Lupin. The thief watched him expectantly. Zenigata couldn’t tell if he was enjoying his uncomfortableness, though it certainly felt like it.

“Would it make you feel better if I turned away?” Lupin finally asked.

“Yes.” Zenigata said, almost too quickly.

Lupin rolled his eyes but turned towards the wall. Zenigata let out a breath and grabbed a pair of boxers from the dresser, pulling them on while trying to keep himself reasonably covered with the towel.

“I’ve seen you naked before, Pops.” Lupin pointed out, still turned away. “Hell, you stripped me naked the other night.”

“Not the same.” Zenigata stated, flipping through the shirts and slacks that hung in his small closet. “You can turn around, if you want.”

Lupin turned his head back and let out a low whistle...exactly the reaction the inspector had been trying to avoid. He furrowed his eyebrows and pulled out a shirt, buttoning it up before finding slacks.

“Going somewhere today, Pops?”

“I need to get groceries.” Zenigata responded, raising an eyebrow at the thief, who was studying him as he pulled on his pants and zipped his fly. “ _Someone_ ate all of my leftovers.” The slight curve to his lips betrayed his grumpy tone.

“I nearly died!” Lupin stated, pointing a finger to the ceiling as he dramatically fell backwards onto the bed. He pouted a minute, mad at the truth to the accusation, and Zenigata leaned over him.

“You want anything?”

Lupin sat up, kissing him directly on the lips, and Zenigata nearly fell forward onto the bed, he was so surprised. The kiss didn’t stop, and Lupin wrapped his left hand over Zenigata’s shoulder, pulling him down into the bed.

When the inspector could finally breathe again, Lupin was looking at him with such a passionate expression, he almost pulled away.

“I want you, Koichi.”

“Lupin, I just got dressed—“

“So what?” Lupin continued to kiss and lick Zenigata’s face.

Jigen’s advice — no, it was definitely a warning — thumped into his brain, and he could almost see the gunman’s knowing grin under the shadow of his ever-present hat.

“I need to—hnn—get food, Lupin—“

“You want me to stop, Koichi?” Lupin asked, nibbling at the inspector’s chin.

 _NO._ Zenigata didn’t speak the word out loud, but the inside of his head was screaming it. Lupin put a hand under his undershirt — when had his shirt gotten unbuttoned? He’d just put it on! — and ran gentle fingers over his stomach and chest. The inspector’s slacks were much too tight, and he hoped Lupin didn’t notice this in the position they were in. He saw that the thief was already passively stroking his own erection, having pushed his boxers aside.

Zenigata swallowed, letting Lupin’s question go unanswered, but he leaned down into the kiss this time. Lupin’s smile almost touched his eyes as he slipped his tongue into the inspector’s mouth, the kiss all he needed to confirm that the older man did indeed want this. The thief removed his hand from himself and reached forward, unbuckling Zenigata’s belt with quick, clever fingers.

“Did you have...”

“Drawer, under the clock. Let me—“

“I got it, I’m closer.” Lupin quickly leaned forward, finding the bottle of lotion in the bedside table. He smirked at Zenigata. “You know, this is external use only.”

“Were you planning on doing something else, right now?”

“Might be. Later.” Lupin purred. He set the moisturizer between them, unzipping the inspector’s fly. He heard him huff, relieved. “You can add it to the list of things to grab at the store.”

The thief licked his lips and pulled down Zenigata’s pants and boxers. The big man was still standing over the bed, perpendicular to Lupin, which put him at a wonderful angle to have certain rather generous parts of him grabbed. Lupin happily did so, feeling the inspector lean forward onto the bed, gripping the sheets in his fists, groaning under his breath.

“Lemme hear you, Pops.” The affection in the nickname was pure, but Lupin smiled and paused, readjusting. “ _Koichi_.” He squirted some of the lotion into his palm and expertly stroked the big man, feeling his heavy breaths against his neck.

“Lupin...” Zenigata groaned, the name rolling long off his tongue, the inspector’s accent slipping in. He watched the thief thrusting into the air, and let go of the sheets, wrapping a hand around Lupin’s dick. The thief groaned, arching his back off the bed, his hips pumping. Zenigata’s big hand completely enveloped him, but it felt _so good_.

“Koichi...” Lupin huffed, “I’m gonna...your shirt...”

Zenigata breathed deep, amazed at how quickly Lupin had brought him to the edge. It had been too long. “I can wash it.”

The two men continued stroking each other, moaning and breathing into each other’s necks. Lupin leaned up, kissing Zenigata again, swallowing his groan and licking the roof of his mouth. “Koichi, I’m gonna come—“

“Yes—“ Zenigata started, throbbing under Lupin’s fingers as he said it. Lupin curled over, wrapping his lips around Zenigata’s big dick, tasting him as he came in his mouth. The thief’s eyes rolled back in his head and Zenigata felt him climax into his fist, pulsing in his callused grip.

The inspector was leaning over the bed, trying to catch his breath, Lupin licking his lips and the head of Zenigata’s dick. Zenigata groaned at the overstimulation, running his fingers through the thief’s fluffy hair and gently pulling him away. Lupin grumbled, but smiled up at him.

“Figured you didn’t want to mess up the sheets, Pops.” Lupin licked again and Zenigata hissed between his teeth. The thief smacked his lips a few times. “Your lotion doesn’t taste that great, I gotta say.”

Zenigata, fingers in Lupin’s hair, going flaccid cock inches from the thief’s mouth, bent over the bed with one hand wrapped around a sticky mess, couldn’t help it: he barked a laugh. Cleanup was quick and mostly quiet, Zenigata helping the still limping but now almost too happy thief around the apartment. He settled him onto the sofa, and the two men shared some of the coffee the inspector had almost forgotten he’d made. Lupin looked at him expectantly when he got up to leave for the store, and Zenigata sighed, leaning over and kissing the thief’s cheek. Lupin grinned, purring like a cat, and once again Jigen’s advice — warning— fluttered in the back of the inspector’s head. He sighed, a soft smile on his own face, and headed outside.

~*~

The phone in his pocket vibrated as the inspector walked out of the market. He set the bags of groceries on the trunk of his car and answered without looking at who was calling.

“Zenigata.”

“How’s Lu? He get you to fuck him yet?”

Zenigata nearly dropped the phone, glancing around the parking lot. The tone was so absurdly casual, no jealousy at all, just a deep _knowing_. There was a grumpy huff in the background, clearly someone disapproving of the question.

“None of your business, Daisuke Jigen.” Zenigata almost hated how he sounded as the gunman’s full name rolled off his tongue; like a disappointed father.

Jigen laughed. “So he _did_. We’ve told you before that’s what he’s like when he’s recovering.”

Zenigata tried to remember. Goemon’s voice rose in the background, objecting, “That is what he is like _all the time_.”

“Just be careful, Pops.” Jigen continued, “You know we trust you.”

“You...do?” Zenigata was stunned.

“He does, so we do.” Stated so simply, like it should have been obvious. “Just watch yourself. He gets clingy.” There was more background chatter from the samurai and Jigen added, “Oh right. We’re gonna be headed back tomorrow. Unless you think he needs more time?”

Zenigata ran over the morning’s events in his head, thinking of Lupin carefully stretching his leg against the floor. Thinking of how well the man knew his own body. Thinking of how well he knew his...Zenigata swallowed, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He tried to remember what day of the week it was. “Sunday would probably be better.”

The inspector tried his best to ignore the judging chuckle on the other end of the line. “Right. We’ll see you then.”

~*~

Jigen hung up the phone, laughing to himself.

“That was rude, Daisuke.” The naked samurai was stretched out next to him on the massive bed, sun highlighting his muscular back. The safe house in Meiringen was old — Lupin swore it dated back to his grandfather’s days, said the location was a family in-joke — but well-kept and expansive. It probably would have been one of those historic homes you could tour on weekends if the paperwork hadn’t been looped through so many pseudonyms that not even the city knew who owned it.

“I’m watching out for both of them, you know that.” the gunman folded his arms behind his head, leaning back into the pillows. His hat was hanging off one of the elaborately carved bedposts, the rest of his clothing — and Goemon’s — tossed over the various antique furniture that decorated the master bedroom. It was rare that the two of them got time to themselves like this, and after the panic and excitement of two nights ago, it was nice to be able to relax. Jigen ran his hand over Goemon’s leg, gently rubbing up his thigh. “If Lu hadn’t scattered the other night, he’d be here, and I wouldn’t have to worry about him breaking our favorite inspector.”

“He’s not here, though.” Goemon pointed out, feeling the gunman’s callused fingers reach his ass, feeling himself start to dig into the bed. The samurai hmphed, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

“He’s not.” Jigen confirmed, his grin wide.

~*~

Zenigata returned to his apartment, his conversation with Jigen and Goemon replaying through his head. They’d known — of course they’d known, why _wouldn’t_ they know, they’d all been more than business partners for years — and Zenigata couldn’t tell how he felt about that. Not exactly taken advantage of, he knew damn well he’d been fine with it, he’d quite enjoyed it...but something that brushed up against the edge of that feeling.

Lupin seemed happier, at least, as he attempted to get up from the sofa to help Zenigata with the groceries. The thief didn’t like being unable to do things, but his leg still needed more time to heal, and Zenigata gently reassured him he could handle it.

“I’m gonna cook you something amazing when I can stand on my own again, Koichi.” Lupin promised, splitting his attention between the kitchen and changing channels on the television.

“I appreciate that, but you don’t have to.” Zenigata politely told the thief, sitting on the sofa, setting two glasses of water on the coffee table. Lupin lay his head in his lap, looking up at him.

“I want to.” Lupin said. “You’ve helped me, a lot. You could’ve just dragged my ass to the station the other night and thrown me behind bars, but you didn’t.”

“You knew I wouldn’t.” Zenigata said, the surety in his voice absolute.

“I did.” Lupin casually ran a finger under the inspector’s chin and down his neck, watching him try not to react to it. The thief wiggled his butt into sofa, drawing Zenigata’s eye to the growing tent in his boxers, under the loose t-shirt. _That t-shirt is seeing more action than it ever has before…_

“Lupin...”

“Mmmm?” He was still touching Zenigata, tracing around the edge of his ear.

The inspector looked down at Lupin in his lap, the thief’s eyes closed, his normal Cheshire cat grin soft. “...nevermind. Can I have the remote?”

~*~

The day continued as the previous one had, though Lupin was much cuddlier, and even more direct than he normally was.

“Koichi, can you help me?” he’d asked as Zenigata crab-walked him into the bathroom again.

“Help you...what, exactly?”

“Stand up while I take a whiz. I’d rather not piss all over your floor if I slip while balancing on one foot.”

“You _could_ just sit. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But I wanna stand up.”

Zenigata let the thief lean against him, his face politely turned away to give him privacy. Lupin didn’t care if the inspector watched or not — he’d seen it before — though he knew Zenigata did, and decided not to tease him over it. He _was_ helping him feel more comfortable, after all.

Lupin asked to help in the kitchen as Zenigata assembled dinner, and the inspector carefully navigated him to what the apartment complex had called a “breakfast bar” but was basically a counter that separated the kitchen and the living room. Lupin sat with his leg propped up on an overturned trash can, chopping vegetables with ease, yammering away happily. Zenigata listened, straining noodles and flipping the pre-seasoned tuna steaks on the pan that sizzled on the stovetop. It was a simple dinner, but it felt good to put together, and it felt oddly good to have company for it, even if that company was an injured, chatty thief.

“It’s really great, Pops.” Lupin smiled, chopsticks in his left hand, resting his right hand on Zenigata’s as the two men sat side by side at the counter. Zenigata flushed, surprised at the compliment.

“Thank you, but you _did_ help.”

“Yeah.” Lupin nudged his leg against the inspector’s, his bare foot against Zenigata’s socked one. He nodded at the grocery bag that was still sitting on the counter by the sink. “Is that...?”

Zenigata cleared his throat, looking at his plate. “It’s. In the bag, yeah.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Pops.” Lupin grinned. “My leg’s probably still too sore to do anything too intense. Tonight, at least.” He continued rubbing his toes up Zenigata’s ankle anyway. The inspector didn’t stop him. Lupin got closer as the meal progressed, leaning his head onto Zenigata’s shoulder, wrapping his fingers around his hand. The inspector wasn’t used to the affection, and was wondering if he’d ever be able to stop blushing, when Lupin moved his hand to his thigh, kissing his neck.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want, Koichi.” Lupin’s usual lilted tone was husky but soft, half-lidded eyes studying the older man next to him.

“Why don’t I clean up.” Zenigata said, his voice cracking slightly. “And then we can move back to the couch and see what the night brings.”

“I’d like that very much.” The thief nuzzled into Zenigata’s neck.

The two men curled up, Lupin with his head against Zenigata’s shoulder, his injured leg stretched up on the arm of the sofa. The thief’s hand was rubbing Zenigata’s inner thigh, Zenigata’s arm was wrapped — in a rather overly conscious, “two people on a first date” fashion — around Lupin’s shoulder. Lupin once again kept sliding closer to the inspector, his arms and legs wrapping around the bits of him he could. Zenigata could eventually feel Lupin’s erection pressed into his thigh, the thief not exactly humping him but not exactly _not_. Zenigata’s own partial erection was pressing uncomfortably against his fly. There was no way Lupin didn’t notice it, he was basically on top of him at this point. At that thought, the thief’s hand shifted up and squeezed. Zenigata bit his lip and huffed under his breath.

“You’re not even fully hard and you’re bigger than me, Koichi.” Lupin observed, running his fingers over the outline of Zenigata’s dick through his slacks. The inspector’s face had taken on a new shade of red. Lupin seemed to mean it as a compliment, but Zenigata wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just grunted acknowledgement as Lupin stroked him almost cautiously through his pants.

“Lupin...”

“Yeah, Pops?”

“Do you...it’s not...” Zenigata struggled with figuring out how to phrase himself, and finally just unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, a breath of relief escaping him. His dick had been angled awkwardly, and it didn’t hurt exactly, but it felt good to remove the barrier. His cock throbbed hopefully against his boxers. Lupin whistled appreciatively. Zenigata was on the verge of saying something — apologizing? Chewing Lupin out? He wasn’t sure — when Lupin quickly pulled the older man’s boxers down and swallowed almost the entire length of him into his mouth and throat.

“LUPIN!”

Lupin looked up, eyes bright, mumbling a response with his mouth full. Zenigata both felt and saw the wicked grin curled across his face. The inspector sighed, his own smile curling the sides of his lips, and ran his hand through Lupin’s hair. Lupin wanted to, and Zenigata wanted it, so why was he even thinking of objecting? He felt Lupin’s tongue lapping at the base a moment before the thief pulled up, sucking a path up the underside of his dick, slurping off the head with an enthusiastic, wet, pop.

“Wish I could sit in your lap right now, Koichi.” The thief almost sounded like he was talking to himself, wrapping his fingers around the base of Zenigata’s dick while he expertly licked at the head. He tongued under the foreskin, causing Zenigata to let out a squeak.

Lupin laughed, looking up at the big man, who’d covered his mouth, embarrassed. “Goe does that too! Guess I hit just the right spot, hmmm?” Lupin leaned back down and repeated the action, licking and sucking.

“Lupin...” Zenigata huffed, feeling sweat dripping down the side of his neck. “Do you want me to...”

Lupin hummed into Zenigata’s cock and the inspector thrusted — he couldn’t help it. Lupin coughed and pulled back, trying not to gag. “Good?”

“Sorry.” Zenigata apologized, petting Lupin’s head. The thief smirked, licking his lips. “Very good. Did you want me to, uh, help _you_?”

Lupin glanced down the couch. The top of the tent on his boxers was very wet. “You mind if I take these off?”

“My dick was just in your mouth, Lupin.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been a little weird about...everything.” Lupin looked like he didn’t want to take his hand off of Zenigata, so the inspector stretched the arm that had been in Lupin’s hair and gently nudged the thief’s boxers down his hips. His cock sprung free eagerly, sticky with precum, and Zenigata wrapped his big hand around it. Lupin moaned, his lips against the older man’s dick, and Zenigata almost came right then.

Lupin refocused on his task, sucking and humming, his tongue hitting just the right spots. Zenigata found it difficult to stroke the thief, he was tending to him so well, he couldn’t focus on the sensation and the task in-hand at the same time. He felt Lupin start pumping into his fist, clearly realizing the effect he was having on him. _It was probably intentional._

“Lupin—“

The thief didn’t say a word, he just repeated the action that caused the squeaking earlier. Zenigata came hard, groaning his name, and Lupin cupped his tongue and caught what didn’t hit the back of his throat. He pushed Zenigata’s hand off his dick, gently but with an urgency that reminded the inspector of when he was on the job. Lupin spat the mouthful of cum into his hand, then wrapped it around himself, pumping fast. Zenigata marveled at the sheer obscenity of this action — if he’d been less subdued from his orgasm mere moments ago he might have commented, but instead he simply watched, fascinated. Lupin gritted his teeth, toes curling, his back arching off the couch as he came hard onto the t-shirt he’d been so concerned about earlier in the day.

The two men took a few moments, breathing deep. Zenigata continued to watch Lupin — he was _always_ watching Lupin — as the thief practically melted into the sofa, resting his sticky hand against his stomach on top of the now-dirtied shirt. He watched the thief stretch his toes out, hearing each of the joints pop, stretching all his limbs (the best he could, considering his left leg was still a bit swollen and sore, as it had reminded him when he uncurled his toes) in a fashion that looked like it was second nature, before settling his head and shoulder into Zenigata’s lap.

“Are you okay?” the inspector asked, concerned at his sudden change of pace.

“Mmmmm.” Lupin answered, running his tongue over his lips. “You taste really good, Koichi.”

Zenigata wasn’t sure what to say to that.

~*~

Lupin fell into a deep doze, and Zenigata was reminded that he was still recovering from some rather serious injuries. “Sleep, food, and sex. Sometimes in that order.” he remembered Jigen mentioning once, concerning the thief’s methods of healing. He wondered how many times the super cool gunman had stitched him up, had made him swallow aspirin or liquor to soothe the pain, had watched over to make sure he didn’t fall asleep after a concussion, had witnessed the sheer naughtiness he’d just witnessed on the couch. _Often._ was the only answer he could assume as he fluffed up Lupin’s hair with his fingers.

Both men were still reasonably exposed, and Zenigata had to pee. He sighed, not wanting to move Lupin, which was required to fix either of these problems. He also needed to change Lupin’s bandages and check to see how he was healing, but, unlike the thief, he didn’t exactly want an audience as he used the bathroom. He was pondering whether there was another convenient throw pillow around to set Lupin’s head on when the younger man blinked awake, smacking his lips.

“Mmmmhi, Pops.” Zenigata knew enough French to translate the sleepy affection in his tone, “How long have I been out?”

“Just a few minutes.”

“I promise I’m not normally like this after sex.” Lupin assured, rubbing his eyes.

“I know, Lupin.”

“Pops?”

“Yeah?”

“I gotta pee.”

Zenigata sighed but smiled, practically lifting the thief up off the couch by his underarms. They walked to the bathroom, the broad-shouldered police inspector now serving as more of a handhold than an absolutely needed support. He hoped some of the bandages could come off tonight, and he wondered what tomorrow would bring.


	4. Saturday

Lupin the Third, notorious master thief, wanted in most countries in the world, was an extremely warm, extremely cuddly man with absolutely awful morning breath. This was something Koichi Zenigata, ever-vigilant Interpol inspector, was reminded of when he awoke to Lupin nuzzled into him, snoring into his neck, clinging to him with as many limbs as he could manage, one hand down his boxers.

Zenigata attempted to very gingerly remove the hand, slightly worried that Lupin’s leg — which was very wrapped around him — wasn’t healed all the way. It had looked decent when he switched out the bandages and helped the thief into a quick bath last night, but the inspector was still cautious. Lupin huffed, squeezing what his hand was wrapped around, and Zenigata gritted his teeth, trying to figure out if the thief was awake or not.

“Lupin...”

“Mmm?” He squeezed again.

“You’re—“

“Did you want me to stop?”

“Mmnnn. Your breath is _terrible_.”

“Yours ain’t so hot either.” Lupin leaned up and kissed the inspector, his tongue warm, and Zenigata blinked as he realized it really wasn’t all that bad. Lupin rolled over, rubbing their dicks against each other. Zenigata had given him another t-shirt last night, but his boxers had gone back in the wash. Zenigata was wearing just his boxers. _We make a set of pajamas together…_ he pondered, breathless, as Lupin leaned back, now on top of him.

“Lupin, your leg...”

“I think it’s okay.” the thief said, rocking forward, “As long as I don’t press down too hard on it. Unless you want to be on t—“

Zenigata flipped him over. It was a move they’d done many times, usually fully dressed, usually on a chase, and it felt _right_ somehow. Lupin’s eyes went wide as he looked up at the big man, and a rare blush colored the thief’s cheeks. He laughed.

“Pops, I—“

“I didn’t hurt your leg, did I?”

“No, not at all! That was hot as hell. I’m gonna think of that every time you flip me over on the job now.” The thief lifted his hips, pressing his dick against Zenigata’s. The inspector moaned at the feeling, his hips following suit.

 _God, I am too…_ Zenigata thought, his ears going red.

“You wanna fuck me, inspector?” The title rolled off Lupin’s tongue, a combination of teasing and passionate.

“I wouldn’t—hnf—fuck a _petty thief_ —“ Zenigata groaned, his hips thrusting against Lupin’s.

“Good thing I’m not, then.” Lupin grinned, kissing him again. He gripped Zenigata’s shoulder, thrusting his hips against him. He wondered, absently, if he could get the inspector to come without penetration, without using his mouth or hands, and decided he was going to try it, as a personal challenge...that didn’t involve getting up from the very sexy position he was currently in.

“Lupin, I’m...” Zenigata was huffing, and Lupin felt a drop of sweat drip onto his face, “I’m usually not this...active...”

“You’re plenty active, you keep up with me!”

“No, I mean, in...the bedroom.” Despite the position they were in, which was making concentrating on this conversation more difficult than it should have been, Zenigata blushed deeply. “I might not be able to...orgasm, again, this soon.”

“Does it feel good?” Lupin asked, looking up at the inspector.

“Yes...”

“Did you want me to stop?” Lupin’s hips were still going; rubbing his dick rapidly against Zenigata’s, both of them bumping each other’s lower stomachs. The thief was talking like this was a normal conversation, but thrusting like his life depended on it.

Zenigata considered. At worst, he wouldn’t come, and would be a little embarrassed. “I don’t think so.”

Lupin leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Then we’ll go till we both come or until it stops feeling good. That sound okay?”

Zenigata nodded rapidly, leaning into the kiss and taking it deeper. Lupin purred deep in his throat, wrapping a leg over the inspector’s back, pulling him even closer. They continued in that position for awhile, Lupin not using his hands, but he looked so determined that Zenigata didn’t dare mention it. He, however, was surprised by the familiar sensation building, and wondered if he could stay balanced on top of the thief if he reached down...

Lupin was trying desperately not to come, himself. It felt so good, having the big man on top of him — he couldn’t wait to get that dick inside him, maybe later tonight? Maybe they could go out for breakfast...he didn’t have any disguises here, damn, that might make things more complicated — that he tried to think of anything else. His mind cycled through the periodic table, through how to take apart and reassemble Jigen’s magnum, through how to take off Jigen’s clothing — start with the tie and shoes, leave the hat for last — through the first time he and his gunman were in this position, one of the first times they ever fooled around...

“Pops—Koichi—I’m—“ The start of the warning was barely out of his mouth when Zenigata felt the warmth of the other man’s climax hit his belly and drip onto the head of his dick, the thief swearing in a multilingual fluster. Zenigata reached his big hand down, grabbing himself, pumping a few times and biting his lip, almost surprised that he could come again. He felt Lupin’s still fully hard length twitch next to his, not sure what to do with the mix of sensations.

“Damn.” Lupin huffed, grinning, looking up at Zenigata.

“What?”

“Was trying to get you off without using hands.” Lupin leaned up, kissing the inspector’s chin.

Zenigata blinked. “You should’ve said something.”

“Less fun.” He reached an arm up, running his finger just behind Zenigata’s ear and down his neck. “God, you’re hot.”

The inspector flushed, getting up off of Lupin and turning towards the side of the bed. “You’re not so bad, for a petty thief.”

“HEY.” Lupin sat up and curled over the big man. “You’re lucky you’re sexy when you’re mean.”

Zenigata grumped but smiled, fluffing the thief’s hair. “Think you’re okay to stand on your own?”

“Gonna leave me fucked out all by my lonesome, huh?”

Zenigata blinked slowly. “I don’t know what that means.”

Lupin smirked. “I’m fine, Pops. Go do your morning stuff. I’ll shout if I can’t get up.”

The two men went about their morning as they had the previous day, though Lupin was definitely more mobile, a fact Zenigata learned when the thief walked into the bathroom while he was shaving. He was still limping a bit, and leaning heavily on his right side, but he didn’t require an arm to hold when he needed to move. Zenigata suspected it would be a few more days before he could do any of his usual capering, and it occurred to him he hadn’t even considered that when the injured thief came in through the bathroom window a few days ago.

Lupin nuzzled the inspector’s neck as they settled on the couch for lunch. “Something on your mind?”

“Honestly?”

“No, Pops, I want you to lie to me.”

Zenigata sighed. “Wondering when your next heist is planned.”

Lupin groaned. “You get grumpy whenever we talk about stuff like that.”

“That leg is going to need a few more days...”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Lupin.”

“What? I will be!”

“Lupin, you’re not as young as you used to be.”

Lupin looked up at Zenigata and was about to reassure him he was being an overprotective jackass, but his voice caught at the look of genuine concern on the older man’s face. The thief cleared his throat, looking away. The room went quiet except for the noise of the television.

“Well. I wasn’t planning on anything for a few weeks anyway.”

Zenigata knew he was lying, but didn’t say anything. They ate lunch in comfortable silence, resuming the position they’d been keeping together: Lupin with his leg stretched out on the sofa arm, leaning against Zenigata’s broad shoulder; Zenigata with the arm he wasn’t eating with stretched over the back of the couch.

~*~

Lunch was consumed, television was watched, and Zenigata was tidying up the living room — doing things like dusting was admittedly a rarity; it was strange to be home this long in one shot, let alone have company — when he noticed Lupin pawing at himself. At first he figured it was an unconscious act; his hand had been resting in his lap most of the time he’d been on the sofa the past few days. But it continued for a little while, and then he saw the thief reach for a handful of tissues. Lupin thrusted his hips up, climaxing silently, eyes closed, an intense and satisfied look on his face. Zenigata turned away, his own face red despite everything the two of them had done in the past day. It still felt like he was seeing something he shouldn’t, a private moment of recovery or something meaningful like that. The thief then curled up on his side facing the sofa, snorted deeply, and from what the inspector could tell, fell solidly asleep. He was still wearing only one of Zenigata’s old t-shirts — this one was from an ICPO family picnic event, forever ago — and the position he was in curled his legs up into the shirt, the fact that he wasn’t wearing boxers quite obvious. The inspector carefully covered the partially exposed thief with a blanket he’d grabbed from the bed, and went over to his small desk to try to catch up on work emails.

The day went by peacefully, much more peacefully than one would expect with a troublesome master thief in the house. Zenigata suspected that, despite his claims otherwise, the younger man was still recovering. The inspector turned as he heard Lupin yawn, the skinny man stretching and getting up from the couch to shuffle to the bathroom.

Zenigata went back to his work, clicking through the emails Yata had moved to the “If You Can During Personal Time” folder — which had appeared the morning after he’d alerted his boss he was going to be out — knowing that his main objective was currently whistling a jazzy song and peeing with the door open not all that far away. The inspector sighed but smiled, starting an email to his protege to thank him for the work he’d been doing and tell him that he would be seeing him soon.

Lupin walked up behind him — his slight limp meant he was heavier on his feet, and that combined with Zenigata’s awareness of how he moved normally meant it wasn’t a surprise when the thief leaned over and nuzzled his face into the inspector’s neck. His ears went hot at the open affection.

“Hey, Pops.”

“Yeah?”

“I promised I’d cook for you.” He nipped gently at his chin. “Maybe I could do that tonight.”

“You don’t have to, Lupin. Are you okay to stand that long?”

“It’ll be a good test.” Lupin mused. “And I do like to romance a man before I let him fuck me.”

Zenigata turned red, but raised an eyebrow. “We just had sex this morning.”

Lupin slid into his lap, still very much not wearing boxers. “Yeah, and I wanna do it again.”

“Lupin, remember what I mentioned earlier…”

“After dinner.” Lupin rubbed his sideburns against Zenigata’s. “You’ll be fine after dinner. I, on the other hand…”

Zenigata coughed into his hand, feeling the thief against his stomach. “Can I finish this email first?”

Lupin kissed him, grinning. “Sure, Koichi.”

~*~

Lupin’s promised dinner was, in fact, amazing. Zenigata was genuinely surprised that such a dish could be prepared in his kitchen. The thief had to pause and sit while working on preparations, once again betraying his declaration that he’d fully recovered from his injuries.

“I’m just saving energy for later, Koichi.” Lupin had smirked as he sat at the counter, chopping asparagus, flirting with his eyebrows. Zenigata rolled his eyes in response, but helped move some of the supplies around the kitchen as Lupin worked. The dinner was elegant, and Lupin claimed it was his grandmother’s recipe but Zenigata was pretty sure that wasn’t true as he twirled the buttery pasta with a fork and listened to the thief rhapsodize about the virtues of French dairy. Lupin had requested a bottle of wine when Zenigata went on his store run the other day, and they two men shared it, though Zenigata didn’t own any wine glasses. The thief smirked over his juice glass and reassured the older man that it was perfectly fine, really.

The men cuddled on the couch, both pleasantly full. Zenigata couldn’t tell if the heat in his face was from the wine or from the position of Lupin’s hand, casually settled between his legs and kneading slowly. The inspector also couldn’t tell if Lupin was doing it on purpose or if it was simply a habitual thing, as he seemed fully focused on the movie that was on TV. In a moment of daring — maybe it _was_ the wine — Zenigata wrapped an arm around the thief and let a big hand rest on his hip. At that, Lupin’s kneading hand squeezed, and Zenigata had a lot of answers very quickly.

They continued like that for awhile, letting dinner settle, not really watching television. Lupin kissed Zenigata on the edge of his lips, just a teasing touch, though his cock had been erect since that big warm hand had appeared nearby, tenting the t-shirt that covered it. The inspector, perhaps still inspired by the wine, leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Lupin. Lupin’s eyes went wide, and Zenigata grinned, lifting the thief off the couch. A quick two-step to the kitchen to grab the bag that was still sitting by itself on the counter, and the inspector carried Lupin into the bedroom, looking extremely pleased with himself.

Lupin wrapped himself around Zenigata, his long limbs touching as much of the older man as he could. Zenigata lay the thief on the bed, being sure to support the various parts of him he knew were still sore, all while looking a bit like a starving tiger presented with a pile of raw meat. Lupin was surprised and excited as Zenigata removed the t-shirt from the thief — the only clothing he was wearing — and tossed it to the floor. He then set out unbuttoning his own shirt, and Lupin wanted to help but also didn’t want to stop watching, didn’t want to stop whatever this was, whatever had gotten into Pops’s head (which one?), so instead he stretched back on the bed and wrapped a hand around his dick to stroke himself slowly.

Zenigata wished his shirt didn’t have so many buttons, wished he hadn’t put on a shirt today. His hand slipped, and he nearly gave up and just ripped the shirt off, but he just refocused and tried his best to undo the buttons as quickly as possible. He watched the thief, watched him stretch and casually run his fingers over his length, watched him study him with an intense appreciation, his tongue just slightly sticking out of the corner of his mouth, like the inspector was a puzzle to be solved...or a treasure to be stolen.

Right, pants. Pants next.

Time seemed to move too slow and too fast as Zenigata undressed. He unzipped his fly, expecting Lupin to whistle or make a comment, but the thief was silent, _wanting_ , and it took a moment because Zenigata really had to wonder if Lupin saw him, right then, the same way he saw the treasures he went after. The thief grabbed for his shoulder, urgent but gentle, and the thought was lost as he was pulled down onto the bed again, thoughts scattered by a tongue against his.

It was all touch, and taste, and skin against skin as Zenigata pushed his pants and boxers off his hips and let them slide to the floor. He wrapped an arm around Lupin, feeling where the bottom of his hairline met his neck, feeling the other side of his face where his sideburn ran over his jaw. Lupin pumped his hips up, rubbing himself against Zenigata. Zenigata eyed the bag on the bed, then leaned into a deep kiss, feeling the thief’s chest under his, feeling him groan into his mouth, feeling _everything_.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Lupin’s grin was wide, curling under his heavy-lidded eyes. Zenigata smiled back, a slight blush coloring his already heated cheeks. He rubbed himself up against Lupin’s inner thigh, holding up the lube bottle, his other hand carefully touching the thief’s chin. Lupin nodded fiercely — whose pre-cum had dripped onto his stomach? When had Pops put the condom on? — and spread his legs, wrapping them around the inspector and pushing his butt up against him.

Zenigata warmed the lube between his fingers. He was a big man and though he knew Lupin was experienced, being careful, especially with this, came so naturally he didn’t even need to think about it. He gently nudged Lupin’s opening with two fingers, and Lupin took in a breath as he felt himself clench and then relax against the sensation of him pressing them in. The inspector had _big_ hands.

Another finger was added and Lupin gritted his teeth, groaning through them, as Zenigata curled and uncurled his fingers to stretch the thief out. Lupin wanted this, more than anything, _right now_ , and he tried his best to not let his impatience get the better of him, but he still thrusted his hips up, a silent plea in his eyes. Zenigata removed his hand, eyeing Lupin. Lupin nodded again, once, feeling the throb of the inspector’s generous length against his opening. A few more dollops of lube, some gentle repositioning, and Lupin felt every inch of the inspector as he slowly, carefully pressed into him.

He was already pretty bowlegged, anyway...

Zenigata thrusted a few times, cautiously, lovingly, listening to the thief under him. He felt Lupin’s breath catch and he repeated the depth of that thrust, listening to that breath catch again, listening to the throaty moan that poured out of Lupin’s mouth.

Lupin’s cock throbbed between them, pressed between the two men: the thief’s slender stomach, the inspector’s slight paunch from so many nights of beer and ramen butting up against endless days of running. Lupin was nothing but _feeling_ at this point, pulsing for release, pre-cum smearing between them, making it so much easier to get so much closer. He was screaming at himself not to come again, not this soon, _give me some more time like this..._

Zenigata watched the thief, _felt_ him, _knew_ what going to happen, and swallowed the moan that tried to escape his lips. Lupin, not expecting the action, felt his hips jump, felt Zenigata speed up his thrusting, backed away from that edge as he worked through his surprise. The inspector pulled back from the kiss and smiled softly, sweat dripping down his nose. Lupin bit his tongue between his lips, his toes curling into Zenigata’s back.

Zenigata kept pumping, feeling the heat build. He nudged Lupin’s healing leg with his hand, feeling him out, letting him stretch. Lupin followed his direction, barely thinking about it, letting the inspector guide him. _Not such a strange feeling, really, considering everything..._

It happened all at once. Lupin pressed his face into Zenigata’s neck, crying out a nonsense garble, his dick throbbing wildly between them. Zenigata felt the thief climax against his stomach and came hard himself — he saw stars in the corners of his closed eyes and blinked, surprised — listening to Lupin’s multiple language moan. The inspector rolled off of Lupin, carefully pulling out and laying beside him, breathing hard. He scratched at his neck, watching the thief, who looked completely blissed out. He felt something odd against his fingers and Zenigata pulled his hand away from his neck, alarmed.

“Lupin.”

“Hmmm?”

“Did you bite me?”

Lupin blinked his eyes open. “Uh...”

“I think you drew blood.” Zenigata looked at his fingers, let a thought put itself together, and then asked it outright, “Was I that good?”

Lupin laughed, wrapping his arm around the inspector and pulling him in for a kiss.


	5. Sunday

“I can—“

“No.”

“But they’re not answering. What if they are in trouble?”

“They’re not.” The gunman rapped his knuckles against the door again, then sighed and lit another cigarette. “Stop touching your sword.”

“But—“

“Don’t slice open Pops’s door, man.”

Goemon huffed, eyeing the apartment numbers, brow furrowed. Jigen leaned against the outside wall, looking at his watch, mentally setting a timer for the next time he was going to knock. He was holding a fist up to the door when it slowly opened inward, a sleepy-eyed mass of Interpol inspector standing on the other side, wearing a t-shirt and boxers that he’d clearly just put on — his hand was still pulling up the elastic on the boxers. His hair was tousled to one side. A large bite mark stood out above his collar line.

Jigen snorted a laugh, touching his own neck. Zenigata blinked, then glared.

“Inspector, good morning.” Goemon spoke up.

“Someone didn’t listen...” Jigen sing-songed, walking around the inspector and into his apartment, dutifully followed by the samurai. Jigen stretched across the couch, setting a fancy paper bag on the coffee table. Zenigata watched the pair, scratching at himself, then realized what he was doing and cleared his throat, coughing into his hand.

“Can I offer you gentlemen some coffee?”

Jigen raised an eyebrow. Zenigata wasn’t sure how he knew this, as his hat shadowed his eyes from view, he could just feel it.

“Do you have tea?” Goemon asked. He was looking around the living room, curious, holding zantetsuken in his fist, but not in a defensive way.

“I...might?” Zenigata answered, walking towards the kitchen.

“Where’s your can?” Jigen’s voice followed him.

“First door in the hallway!” Zenigata paused in the kitchen, thinking about a few nights ago, thinking about the thief greeting him with a genuine smile before crashing into the floor, outside the bathroom he’d just directed Jigen to. His face flushed lightly, thinking of the following nights, thinking of last night, and he cleared his throat again, scooping coffee into the machine, wondering if he had any bags of tea.

Lupin wandered into the kitchen, snuggling up behind Zenigata as he stood at the counter. Even stumbling through his once again delayed morning routine, Zenigata wasn’t surprised; he’d heard the thief’s movements as he’d walked in. Lupin rumbled in his throat happily, wrapping his arms around the inspector, running a hand over his hip.

“Jigen and Goemon are here.”

“Yeah, I saw Jigen in the bathroom. Thought it was gonna be you.”

Zenigata felt his ears heat up, pulling out mugs, rinsing them off in the sink. He hoped the bag of tea he’d located — in the same place as those sugar packets he’d found the other day, and he wasn’t sure exactly when he’d acquired it — was good enough for the samurai as he put some water on the boil.

“Might wanna not go in there for a while.” Lupin smirked, nibbling at Zenigata’s ear.

Zenigata rolled his eyes. “Jigen takes his coffee—“

“Like you do, black.” Lupin confirmed, inspecting the contents of a messy drawer, an arm still wrapped around Zenigata. “Goemon likes soy milk in his tea, but only if it’s matcha, which I don’t think that is.”

“It’s not.” Zenigata said, inspecting the tea bag, which was branded with the name of the local Asian restaurant. “Is there anything you don’t know about your partners?”

Lupin paused, pondering. “I know what I need to know. That’s enough.” He pawed at Zenigata’s hip, letting his fingers slip under the elastic of his boxers, his developing erection digging into the inspector’s backside. Zenigata let himself consider the idea of flipping the thief around and taking him over the kitchen counter, and he hoped his body wouldn’t betray those dirty thoughts as he breathed deep and poured the coffee. Lupin was rubbing into him, his hand between them.

“Lupin...”

“One more time? Before I go?”

“Your partners are in the other room.”

“Jigen’s gonna take twenty minutes in the bathroom. I warned you to not go in there, right?”

Zenigata rolled his eyes again. “I’m pretty sure talking about that isn’t sexy foreplay, Lupin.”

Lupin grumped, taking a mug and doctoring his coffee with a handful of sugar packets he’d found in the drawer. Zenigata turned to see the thief sipping from his mug, stroking himself as he leaned against the counter.

“One more time, Koichi?”

Zenigata sighed gently, smiling, and wrapped an arm around the thief, kissing his neck. “One more time.”

~*~

A slightly red-faced inspector walked into his own living room, carrying mugs of tea and black coffee. Lupin followed him, grinning wide, carrying the other two mugs. Goemon blinked, looking up from the place on the floor where he’d settled between the couch and the coffee table.

“Good morning, Lupin. Are you doing well?”

“ _Fantastique_.” Lupin purred, the French rolling off his tongue. He still had a slight limp to his walk, which Goemon raised an eyebrow at.

“He might need another couple days of rest.” Zenigata said, setting the mugs down on the coffee table. Goemon lifted his and attempted to not seem like he was sniffing it.

“You have our appreciation for taking care of him.” the samurai said solemnly, sipping his tea and nodding before setting it back on the coffee table.

“And for everything else you did.” Jigen said as he walked back into the room, buckling his belt, not so slyly gesturing to his neck. Zenigata blushed again, covering the bruising bite mark with a hand. He looked over both the men as they situated themselves around him, around Lupin: Goemon sitting up very straight on the floor, facing the door, zantetsuken safely in his lap; Jigen, casually settling into the couch, as if it was his own apartment. Lupin happily relocated himself to the sofa, perching on Jigen’s leg, mug of coffee in hand.

“You gonna get dressed, boss?” Lupin was wearing just a pair of boxers that hung loose around his waist.

“Did you go to Frutal?”

“Promised we would.” Jigen nodded to the bag he’d set on the coffee table when he’d come in. He looked up at Zenigata. “And we _did_ pay for them.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.” Zenigata held up his hands and assured him, though the thought had crossed his mind. Lupin was pulling out the box and picking through the pastries inside. The four men sat peacefully, sipping at their beverages and nibbling baked goods, until Zenigata excused himself to get dressed, feeling slightly self-conscious in just his underwear. Lupin followed him with his eyes, and Jigen sighed deeply.

“You’re hopeless, you know that? Go put on some pants.”

Lupin clapped his hands and kissed Jigen’s cheek, getting powdered sugar in his beard, before springing off the couch and down the hallway. The gunman looked for an ashtray, sighed when he couldn’t find one — he knew Pops smoked, but apparently not in his apartment — and grabbed another pastry.

“The inspector says he probably needs a few more days of rest.” Goemon said quietly, eyes closed.

“Good luck getting him to sit still any longer than he’s forced to.” Jigen looked up at the ceiling, smirking, “Maybe we should just leave him here until he stops limping.”

“He will be limping in different ways if we leave him here.” Goemon mused, causing Jigen to choke on the pastry in his mouth. The corner of the samurai’s lips curled slightly. “And I am sure the inspector would not trust him alone in his apartment, and would like to get back to work.”

Jigen wiped the sugar from his beard and grunted affirmation. Zenigata returned to the living room, fully dressed in slacks and a button-up shirt. Lupin followed him, periodically twitching his sore leg, annoyed by having to wear pants for the first time in four days, his tie stuffed in one of the many pockets of his jacket, which was hanging over his arm. Both his partners watched him carefully, following his movements.

“I’m not gonna explode, guys.” the thief grumbled, sitting on the sofa.

“You really didn’t listen to me, did you?” Jigen’s grin met the shadow of his hat as he looked at the inspector.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lupin asked.

Goemon cleared his throat, blushing slightly. “That all your needs have been met.”

“Yeah, well. _I’m_ not the one with a hickey necklace.” Lupin pointed out, gesturing to Goemon’s open kimono. The samurai promptly attempted to close it, turning away, now blushing deeply, though he was smiling.

Jigen just continued grinning. “You should see where else I left ‘em.”

“Later, I hope.” Lupin looked up at Zenigata. “You good, Pops?”

The inspector had been following the conversation as it had been passed around the three men like a hot potato, and was surprised at suddenly being included in it. “I’m fine.”

“Gonna miss me?”

Zenigata opened his mouth, then closed it, genuinely not sure how to respond to that.

“Right, I’m sure carrying your wiggly ass to the bathroom and listening to you whine about being hungry or horny was pure joy.” Jigen said, rolling his eyes.

“Hey. He’ll miss the sex.” Lupin pointed out, leaning exceedingly close to his gunman, raising his eyebrows, as if daring Jigen to argue.

“I’m standing right here.” Zenigata said, crossing his arms across his chest. “I could just call my office and have all three of you arrested, you know.”

“You won’t.” the thief, gunman, and samurai chorused.

The inspector sighed.


	6. Monday ~ Epilogue

Inspector Koichi Zenigata returned to work the next day, sliding easily back into his daily routine. He found it odd when the entire break room went silent when he walked in, then figured perhaps he was interrupting something, grabbed his lunch, and walked back to his office. It never occurred to him that he could have been the topic of conversation.

“How was your time off, sir?” the inspector’s protege, Goro Yatagarasu, asked politely, trying his best to look at any part of his boss that wasn’t the very obvious bite mark on the side of his neck.

“The things that needed to be done, got done.” Zenigata responded, shuffling through the pile of papers in his inbox.

“Clearly.” Yata coughed into his hand.

“What?”

“Nothing, sir.”

The day continued quietly. Zenigata caught up on notes from meetings and various other day-to-day things that had been missed since he’d called in last week. Around 3 o’clock, the mail cart rolled through the hall, stopping in front of Zenigata’s office. Yata set his laptop aside and opened the door, letting the delivery person drop a big, reasonably weighty box onto the inspector’s desk. Zenigata finally looked up from his paperwork, eyeing the box.

“Thank you.” Zenigata nodded to the mail person, then looked at the younger detective. “Yata, what’s this.”

“I don’t know, sir. It’s addressed to you.”

Zenigata slid a box cutter under the tape, carefully opening the box. 12 bottles of wine greeted him. He picked one up, curious, and then recognized the label and couldn’t stop the blush that overtook the entirety of his face. A small note on elegant linen paper was wrapped around one of the bottles, the curving script pleasantly familiar, despite not having its trademark signature.

_For this time. And for the next. ❤_


End file.
